Arthur hated the world. The world likely hated him back too, and this was why he was now sitting beside the French pervert in his least favourite restaurant in the world; McDonald's. All they really had was burgers, and that would be fine and dandy, if he actually LIKED them.

"Stop touching me, you bloody frog!" The angry British blond growled, shoving Francis' hand away from his thigh.

"Why? You like it, I'm sure." Francis replied, leaning closer so that he could nip at Arthur's ear playfully, his blond hair tickling the latter's neck.

"Bullocks!" Arthur jumped up, sitting beside the loud American he had become 'friends' with earlier that year.

"Hiya Artie!" Alfred slung an arm over the green-eyed Briton's shoulder. "Why aren't you eating?"

"Because that bloody frog made me lose my appetite." Arthur muttered, grabbing his messenger bag and pulling a British flag notebook out of it. He then began to doodle, oblivious to Alfred watching him. The drawing was one he had started a few days prior; a winged heart trying to fly with a broken wing, an arrow piercing it, and blood dripping from cracks and holes in it. Needless to say, it was a sad picture.

"Arthur, are you okay?" Alfred's cerulean eyes watched him through square-framed glasses.

"I'm fine." Arthur replied curtly, patting his blond friend's arm absentmindedly, and got up. "I must be going. Goodbye."

With that, Arthur stalked out of the restaurant, taking with him the calm of the atmosphere. As he walked away from McDonald's listening to the fight breaking out, Arthur put his notebook away, and let his thoughts wander.

Arthur had always been a thoughtful child, always over thinking things. As of late, his main thought was on a certain American, and certain feelings. Alfred was always being flirty, and silly, and while Arthur found it endearing, it was also quite confusing. Did Alfred really like Arthur? Arthur loved Alfred, but it wasn't exactly something he would admit. Especially not to Alfred himself.

"Arthur!"

"Speak of the devil." Arthur muttered, turning to see the American running up, panting. "What do you want, git?"

"I just wanted to check on you." Alfred replied, pulling gently on Arthur's messenger bag strap. "You're okay, right?"

"I told you, idiot, I'm fine." Arthur snapped, yanking his shoulder away so the strap slipped out of Alfred's hands. Blue eyed met green, and Arthur froze. Those eyes, they captivated Arthur for a moment.

"You're lying Artie." Alfred was hurt; his friend was hurting, and not telling him about it.

"And you're a hopeless idiot." Arthur muttered, continuing his walk. "Why can't you just leave it alone?"

"Because I care!" Alfred grabbed Arthur's arm and spun him back towards him. "Just tell me what's going on and I'll try and help!"

"You." Arthur replied coldly, before realizing the context in which he said it. "What I mean to say is-I mean... I-I don't quite know how to say it."

Alfred visibly wilted before the Briton, running a hand through his hair stressfully. "Well, Artie, I didn't know... Know you felt that way... If I woulda known I could have tried to fix it."

"You can't fix it Alfie." Arthur replied softly, using the nickname he never dared let himself use as he reached up to pat Alfred's cheek. "Only I can."

With that, Arthur walked away again to go find someplace to hide from his unattainable love.

Tino hadn't been sure he liked his new roommate. That is, until Tino found himself falling for him. And so, the two found themselves in quite an awkward predicament.

Berwald had brought some drinks to the dorm, and left. Tino, assuming it was some new kind of soda, poured himself a cup. After that, he drank from a bottle. Berwald made the mistake of coming back after he had downed three.

"Hey Be." Tino grinned at him, confusing Berwald a little as he walked over to his bed and set his backpack down.

"H' T'no." Berwald turned back to him and was met with Tino suddenly upon him. Both fell to the floor, Tino lying across Berwald, Berwald's legs spread on either side of Tino's. "T'no?"

"I've been thinking," Tino slurred, wrapping his arms around Berwald's neck. "I like you. A lot."

Berwald just stated at Tino, shocked. Sure, he had fallen in love with the smaller blond, but he didn't expect the feelings to be returned.

"And I think you like me too." Tino said quietly, scooting up so he could be nose-to-nose with him. Sea-green met lilac, and Berwald's last defense crashed as Tino's lips brushed against his. Sparks ignited, and Tino's tongue darted across Berwald's bottom lip, requesting entrance. Berwald happily obliged.

"W't, T'no..." Berwald mumbled when Tino's hands wandered under his shirt. "Th's... L't's n't g' t' f'r..." (Wait Tino... This... Let's not go too far...)

"But I want to." Tino whispered, smiling at Berwald. "Don't you, Be?"

Berwald didn't answer; instead he continued to kiss Tino for a while longer, before picking up the drunk blond and carrying him to his bed.

"Oh, did you want to wait until we got to bed?" Tino giggled, turning to pull Berwald down with him.

"No." Berwald replied, pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

"Wait..." Tino started to get up, until Berwald had him cuffed to the bed. "You got it backwards!"

"D'd n't." (Did not) Berwald replied, and sat down to wait for Tino to finally pass out.

He wouldn't remember it in the morning.